


it's golden, like daylight

by bloohr



Series: Your Eyes Tell [1]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, M/M, Moments of Lightheartedness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Swearing, beomgyu falls in love first, complicated feelings, kind of?, only the first chapter and i've already run out of ways to say yellow, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloohr/pseuds/bloohr
Summary: The charming customer lets out yet another one of his adorable giggles before his cold, large and thin hands come up to cup gently around Beomgyu’s flaming bright cheeks. God, he could practically see the steam coming off of his face from the contact, “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”or; people are classified as their different eye colors, which showcase their inescapable fate, and Beomgyu and Yeonjun are doomed the moment they meet.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Series: Your Eyes Tell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048420
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'd like to start off by saying this fic was insp by a tumblr prompt i found YEARS ago and it has been collecting dust up until now where i have tried to gain some confidence to post it aaa. i briefly read over this, so i apologize if there are some mistakes!
> 
> please enjoy & comments are always appreciated!!

The earliest memory Beomgyu could remember was one he could never forget. At seven-years-old, his mother frequently took him and his older brother out to the neighborhood playground at five in the evening, where the yellow of the sun got slowly overtaken by the blue of the sky. Looking back at it, Beomgyu thinks it was one of her motherly tactics, to get her children exhausted and willing to spoon any unperfected dish she managed to hastily throw together to satisfy their empty stomachs. And it worked every time because Beomgyu remembers his grey irises blinking back at the runny yolk of a fried egg on top of a slanted mountain of lightly tinted brown rice and mushy blueberries on the opposite side for a split second before shoveling all of it into his sandy mouth.

“How is it, Gyu-ah?” his mother asks him with sparkling brown eyes and a child-like smile, her dirtied hands wiping against her battered apron. 

“Unusually crunchy, Ma,” his older brother, Byungwoo, stole the younger’s chance to respond, his face scrunched up as he chewed, a dull crunching sound came from his mouth. 

Beomgyu’s brother was three years older than he was, meaning he was ten-years-old, the age where children are presented with eye colors that foretold their destined lives. Like their mother, his older brother was presented with chestnut irises, a Gifted, a hue that meant a life filled with all sorts of privilege. Innate intellect, incredible talent in anything they could get their hands on, and the ability to be a social butterfly that would come in handy in any job.

However, Beomgyu was starting to think the teachers in his elementary school were spewing all sorts of mythologies because, as sweet and genuine as his mother was and as much as Beomgyu treasured her, her dinners were something she could never get by with the criteria of a Gifted. However, that was the start of his mentality and motivation to not fall into the cookie cutter mold of what everyone preached about the different eye colors.

“It was delicious, Momma,” Beomgyu beamed up at his mother, who responded with an identical smile, one that was even brighter than his.

She pinched his chubby, dirt-ridden cheek, and cooed, “My Gyu-ah is so kind and adorable, unlike his brother.” She shoots his older brother a sideways glance, but it was melted away with a soft smile when his brother grumbled something along the lines of, ‘it’s still good, I guess’.

As the boys finished up their meal, a comfortable silence washed over the three. Beomgyu was too busy shovelling the last remnants of rice and blueberries to notice his mother wasn’t eating. She was seated from across the varnished rustic table, the sides of it chipping away from how many times the two boys had run around the house with plastic toys in hand, bumping into every surface they owned. Her sparkling eyes were fixed on a particular dent in the table, as if attracted to the color so similar to hers.

“Are you not hungry, Ma?” Beomgyu spoke up gently once he realized she wasn’t going to tear away from the uninteresting deformity of the table.

The warm yellow light above their dinner table casted a strong wash of light over her face, almost dissipating all of the fine lines and wrinkles in her skin. Beomgyu hadn’t realized just how tired she looked, and if he hadn’t had his unsaturated irises following her every movement, he wouldn’t have noticed any sooner. 

She had quickly recovered from the shock of being called out to, and a reassuring smile made its way into her eyes, “Don’t worry, Gyu, Momma ate a while ago.” 

Beomgyu nodded his head, his fork mindlessly poked the forgotten few grains of rice on his plate while his wide eyes continued to watch his mother’s unsure fiddling of her apron and the scratching of her unkempt hair. 

She let out a dramatic sigh when her eyes finally met Beomgyu’s invasive stare, “Gyu-ah, I can’t ever hide anything from you, can I?” His mother laughed heartily and maybe even a bit sadly. 

Beomgyu hadn’t purposefully meant to stare so accusingly at his mother, so he was caught off guard at this, “Are you hiding something, Ma?” Being the person people kept secrets from was always an unpleasant feeling. 

“No, no, no,” his mother shoots out of her chair, startling him and even Byungwoo, who was gobbling up his share without a care in the world. She cleared her throat before she sat back down, “I was waiting for the right time to tell you two. I promise I’m not keeping any secrets, okay?”

She held out her pinky as a peace treaty and as a means to keep the light in Beomgyu’s eyes from distinguishing with disappointment. His eyes flickered between his mother’s dainty pinky and her now wide and anticipating eyes. Beomgyu hooked their pinkies with a giggle, “Okay, I believe you!”

His mother let a quick sigh of relief before she turned back to the two with a more confident gaze. Beomgyu couldn’t put it into words at the time, but looking back at this memory, he would’ve compared those brilliant brown eyes to the soil of the earth that kept him grounded everywhere he went. It was the dirt in the ground that would never change and something that he knew would meet the soles of his feet if he took one step forward.

“Your mother got a new job,” she started out, voice wavering in confidence once she realized the sentence left her mouth. Beomgyu blinked up at her, waited for her to continue, but Byungwoo had cut in yet again, his equally grounding eyes squinting at her suspiciously. 

“It’s not in Daegu, is it?” He questioned, but it sounded more of a blunt statement. Their mother pursed her lips before swiping a hand on her face mumbling something about ‘why did my oldest son have to be like me?’.

“...Right,” she finally responded, carefully. She turned to face Beomgyu, who’s eyes were still blinking up at her and his eyebrows now drawn together in denial. Although he was not a Gifted, he didn’t need it spelt out for him. They were going to move away, far from what Beomgyu was most familiar with.

She noticed the slowly rising upset that made its way onto Beomgyu’s scrunched up face first, then his hand tightly gripping the spoon, and then his shimmering grey irises. His mother’s hands were held out in front of her shaking them like it would appease her son’s hurricane of swirling emotions, “But it’s going to be so much more fun than Daegu! The schools there are bigger, so you’ll get to have more friends to play with, and they have a lot of street vendors that sell tasty food--”

“Where even are we moving to, Ma?” Beomgyu’s older brother interrupted her attempt at trying to make the younger calm down, and when he glanced over, he could see a single hot tear roll down his dirty cheek, revealing a streak of his tanned skin. Beomgyu hurriedly wiped away the evidence of his failure to mask his distraught. 

Their mother had sighed yet again for that night, “Seoul.”

She didn’t even bother to look over at Beomgyu because the boy lets out a choked sound, “Seoul? Seoul is nothing like Daegu, Ma!” he exclaims, unable to contain his feeling of incredulousness. A city so dense and crowded the horizon with nothing but tall buildings that was nothing compared to the tall mountains Beomgyu watched every day.

“That’s not true, Gyu-ah. You haven’t even been to Seoul, you’d be surprised,” she tried to convince him. “It may not look exactly the same, but you’ll get used to it eventually.” Although she was the one who had said it, she wasn’t completely sure of herself. 

But before Beomgyu could rebut, his mother stood up quickly and hardened her face, nonverbally telling them no matter how much they kicked and screamed, things would not change. It had been so long since the last time their mother looked at them with such a look. Beomgyu and his older brother were polite children. They knew how hard it was for their mother to raise them both, and they did everything they could to lessen her burdens, so they rarely got into fights with other kids or talked back to adults. It was easy for Byungwoo, but Beomgyu never liked the feeling of being stepped over and ridiculed, so it was harder for him to grasp the concept.

But like any other kid, Beomgyu hated the fact that he couldn’t get what he wanted the most.

“I’m not going,” he had said loudly, slamming his utensil onto the table, causing the plates to clatter and drew his mother’s attention back to him. She stopped in her tracks to give Beomgyu a warning look and a pointing finger.

Before she could voice anything, his older brother sighed irritably at his brother’s outburst, “Suit yourself, Gyu,” he said before putting his plate and fork into the sink, “I think going to Seoul is a good thing. It’s one of the biggest cities, plus we might run into some famous people just a few meters into the city,” he lightheartedly joked despite the tense air between Beomgyu and their mom. 

“Then, you and Ma can go. I’m going to stay here,” Beomgyu declared, stomping his barefoot onto the hardwood floor for emphasis. At this point, his mother didn’t have the heart to put up a serious front anymore and bursted into a genuine fit of delighted laughter. Beomgyu frowned at how his mother wasn’t taking him seriously.

“And how are you going to live here in Daegu by yourself, Beomgyu-ah?” She crossed her arms while she looked at him in amusement and a teasing smile danced on her lips.

The young boy’s face gradually flushed a bright pink that even the dirt and sand could not cover when he struggled to think of just how he would be able to survive without his mother’s prepared food and his older brother’s obnoxious arrogant air not there to play with him during the day.

“I-I’ll go live with grandma!” 

His mother had rolled her eyes fondly, “And how are you going to get to grandma’s house, which is an hour drive away?”

Beomgyu pouted in defeat and embarrassment, he wasn’t even upset about the thought of Seoul anymore now that his mother was back to her usual bright and playful self, but he was always a stubborn kid who wanted to prove his point. This, however, was too troublesome of an operation to go through with.

“Fine, you win,” he said in a small voice as he looked down at his feet. He suddenly felt arms around him and a warm beating chest. Beomgyu immediately wrapped his tiny and tan arms around his mother in response. He was always quick to affection. 

“Momma is so happy and lucky to have both of you. I’m sorry that we can’t stay here forever, Gyu. But as long as we have each other, we’re always going to be happy, right?” She pulled back to look at Beomgyu with a soft smile, her warm walnut irises glittered even brighter than usual. 

Beomgyu nodded fervently, “Exactly!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“No, not quite.”

Beomgyu releases a heavy sigh as his arms shake from having to hold up the same damned framed canvas of some disorderly colorful splotches above his head for the past fifteen or so minutes.

“A little to the left, Gyu,” his mother waves one veiny hand, both decorated with vibrant jewels and different bands of silver. The other rests on her cheek as she stares thoughtfully at the painting Beomgyu had just shifted to the left with a grunt, “Perfect!”

Beomgyu quickly hammers the nail into the wall and mounts the frame when his mother turns her back, not even sparing the crooked frame a glance, “Isn’t this a bit too overkill, Ma? We have, like, ten other frames in the house that look exactly like this one, except smaller.”

She waves her hand, the afternoon sun catching the jewels and conveniently blinds Beomgyu’s daffodil eyes, causing him to close his eyes in annoyance and let out yet another sigh, “Not at all. I have some curators coming by and I want to impress them by showing them an artist who lives in her work, surrounded by it twenty-four seven, the colors in her art seeping into her daily life. I can see the headline now,” she sighs dreamily before snapping out of her stupor to rush over to the desk sitting at the corner of their slightly messy living room to scrawl something in her planner.

Beomgyu takes this window of opportunity to ungracefully plop onto the plush, velvet blue sofa and sink into the cushions. He rolls his shoulders and cracks a few joints to release the tension from helping his up and coming contemporary artist of a mother set up her paintings all over their home. Beomgyu smiles up at the tall ceiling of their house. 

“Ma, how many years has it been since we moved to Seoul?” the sprawled out boy asked, with his bare feet mindlessly rubbing at the soft texture of the wide sofa.

His mother hums distractedly as she continues to scribble notes into her planner. She pulls back to tap the pen against her chin in thought, “How old are you now? Twenty? Then that means it’s been thirteen years since we’ve moved to Seoul, Gyu. All those years of high school and you still don’t know how to do simple math?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes when his mother laughs at him teasingly, “I was just making sure you still knew how to.” He sticks his tongue out at his mother when she gives him an unimpressed look, her coffee irises twinkling as if to add in extra effect to just how ridiculous Beomgyu sounded. 

Thirteen years. No wonder he couldn’t remember much past that moment in his memory. As he continues to drift away in his thoughts, Beomgyu finds yet another fond smile pulling at his lips. He was such a stubborn and childish kid back then, he’ll always be impressed with his mother’s everlasting patience and cunning ways of pacifying him. He blinks slowly before sitting up to meet his reflection in the large curtain window at his feet, the blinds drawn back to let the early afternoon sunlight in with open arms. The light was almost overwhelming to his eyes, but they soon adjusted and he could faintly make out his brightly glittering yellow irises.

In the sunlight, they seemed to pale in color, making it a much more vibrant color than it would appear in low lighting. Beomgyu hadn’t realized how long he was looking at his reflection until he felt something hit his flannel clad arm before falling to their maple wooden floor with a loud clink. It was his mother’s pen.

Beomgyu flinches, turning over to his mother who was already looking at him with her arms crossed. He lets out an incredulous laugh, “What was that for?”

“A child of mine looks beautiful no matter what, so quit it,” she says, clicking her tongue, “What could possibly make my Gyu look at himself like he is anything less than perfect, hm?”

Beomgyu wants to laugh at her incessant coddling, but he settles for a snooty, “I was just admiring the face that was so carefully crafted by the gods,” instead. He dramatically runs a hand through his hair, making a mess of the mop on his head and scrunches his face in a rather unattractive way. His mother falls for it and snorts at her son’s antics.

“Seriously, Gyu-ah, you can talk to your mother about it. What’s bothering you?” 

The boy in question only rises from the sofa, stretching his limbs and emits an unnecessarily loud grunt. He glances at the clock hanging from the top of their fireplace, it was his mother’s favorite purchase as it mimicked the clock from Salvador Dali’s _The Persistence of Memory_ , though it was a bit hard to read most of the time. Beomgyu decides the clock will have to be set a few hours ahead so he can escape this confrontation.

“I’ll talk about it later, Ma. I’m meeting up with Soob for an assignment,” he quickly spews out the excuse without much thought.

His mother gives him yet another unimpressed look, “You missed the college entrance exam, what assignment could you possibly be working on as a gap year student, Gyu?”

Beomgyu lets out a nervous laugh as he struggles to slip his feet into his shoes, his fingers burning at the friction from the effort, “Dunno, Soobin just needs help,” he lamely makes the excuse.

His mother made a move to speak, but he quickly intercepts her, “Good luck with the curators, Ma! I’ll be home late again, taking over someone’s shift at the convenience store--” 

Beomgyu quickly and firmly closes the door behind him and lets out a sigh of relief before grabbing his phone out of his back pocket to shoot Soobin a text.

_bit early, but where we meeting up at_

Beomgyu pockets his phone and starts to walk around the windy maze of a neighborhood as he waits for Soobin to text him back. Even in broad daylight, there’s no saying what could happen at any given moment, but Beomgyu decides to test the very little luck he has and walks leisurely while kicking rocks out of boredom.

“What could that idiot possibly be busy with right now,” Beomgyu mumbles to himself, but then he realizes Soobin is probably in the middle of his afternoon classes right about now, giving his full attention to lectures and his phone on silent. Beomgyu frowns to himself. It would’ve been nice to have class right now like everyone else, he thinks for a moment, but then remembers his classes in high school and immediately retracts the thought.

It was debatably one of the worst things to happen to him ever since he presented as a Misfortunate. Was it? Beomgyu’s eyes are glued to the asphalt in front of him as he searches around his memory as a means to pass time. A prodding voice in the back of his head tries to say something but it’s too distant for him to hear.

He looks up a second too late, his forehead coming in contact with a towering telephone pole, a loud echoing thud filling the quiet neighborhood. Beomgyu curses high and low, hissing while gently rubbing the area that is slowly starting to form a rather large goose egg. 

Being a Misfortunate is a life full of annoying inconvenience. Or maybe Beomgyu was just really clumsy and liked to blame it on the natural phenomenon of eye colors. 

  
  
  
  


It was the thirteenth of March, Beomgyu’s tenth birthday. He’d been waiting for his moment for as long as he could remember, and he could barely contain his excitement at where he sat in their living room. Although his mother had been busy with her new occupation, she still managed to make a birthday cake for Beomgyu’s special day. 

His mother set down the lopsided two-tiered vanilla cake in front of him. It was coated in white frosting, with some bits of the cake peeking through and in green frosting read _Happy Birthday Gyu!_ in his mother’s cursive lettering. She poked exactly ten candles into the cake and set them alight.

“Happy birthday, nerd.” Byungwoo had said cooly as he threw a neatly wrapped present into his lap. He took a seat across from Beomgyu and watched the flames dance gently, “Let’s hope you get something good.”

His mother smacked the back of his older brother’s head with enough force, “Stop that. Let’s be supportive of him no matter what he is presented with.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flickered between the candles, to his mother, then to his brother. He watched as their brilliant dark brown eyes lit up from the bright flames, showcasing deep and beautiful caramel. 

His mother checked the time, “Quick, Gyu! Make a wish, it’s twelve.” 

Beomgyu frantically gathered himself erect and squeezed his eyes shut as he clasped his little hands together. _I wish I was like Momma and hyung._ He blew out the candles and the warm light was taken over by the bright lights from the skyscrapers and the illuminated moon from outside their window.

He waited a heartbeat before he slowly opened his eyes again, slowly peering up at his mother and Byungwoo. They had already been looking back at him, as if trying to find something on his face. His older brother blinked, a strange look flashing across his face before turning to his mother.

Her face was unreadable, but it was replaced with a bright smile, “Happy birthday, Gyu. How is ten-years-old treating you?”

Beomgyu had broke into a large beaming grin and exclaimed, “I feel on top of the world!”

His mother joined in his laughter and gave him an affectionate noogie. His brother only scoffed before he dug a finger into the frosting and brushed it across the younger’s nose.

“I think it’s time for this little man to head to bed,” his mother had said when she caught Beomgyu stifling a yawn while eating a piece of the cake.

That night, his mother had tucked him into bed. She sat at the edge of the bed and brushed Beomgyu’s thick hair away from his eyes. He faintly remembers her gentle smile tugging downwards. 

“My Gyu,” she started off, her voice gentle and Beomgyu had felt his eyelids grow heavier, “you’re just like your mom, you know that?”

“How?” Beomgyu mumbled.

She knocked her knuckles against his forehead, “You’re hard headed.” They both giggle softly.

“It’s because we’re confident. We feel like no one knows us better than ourselves,” she continued as she mindlessly busied her hands by threading through Beomgyu’s hair.

“But,” she stopped her fingers and withdrew them to her lap, causing Beomgyu to flutter his eyes open and look at her. Her face became unreadable again at the sight of his eyes.

“There will be someone to prove us wrong one day,” she finished, her soft brown eyes melted her weathered features, making her look as young as she did before they moved to Seoul.

After his mother left his room that night, Beomgyu couldn’t sleep. In his mind, he didn’t fully understand what his mother was trying to teach him, but somewhere, deep within, past his thick skull and his clouded thoughts, he knew. 

He had got up from his bed after staring up at the glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling for the past thirty minutes in silence. Making his way over to the full length mirror at the corner of his room, Beomgyu sat down in front of it and peered at himself through the glass. There was no light other than the twinkling moon behind his curtains and the bright city lights from miles away. 

Beomgyu held his breath when the beating from his heart had made it hard for his eyes to focus. He shuffled closer to his mirror, leaned in close enough to see a murky mustard swimming in his irises. 

He remembers jumping back in fright at first, but after another look out of curiosity, Beomgyu became too busy admiring the swimming color to realize that the color was yellow. The color of a Misfortunate. The color of someone who would stumble across many inconveniences and even large losses in his lifetime. 

But he had not accepted it that night. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the thought and the swimming color away, tried to drown it. 

However, the next morning, Beomgyu had run to his mirror, his eyes blown wide in anticipation and full of hope. He felt his world come crashing down the moment his eyes met their reflection. The grey in eyes were gone completely, and in left a bright, almost golden yellow in their wake. And as much as he hated the meaning behind the color, he couldn’t find any words to describe the hue out of spite. Everything associated with yellow was so bright, so positive, so _happy_. So why couldn’t his fate be the everything that was associated with yellow?

Beomgyu didn’t bother to step foot outside of the house, let alone his room that day, not even when his mother had tried to coax him out with his favorite homecooked food. He was too afraid of what would happen to himself or even the people around him because of his fate. 

When his mother had decided to leave him be for the rest of the day, Beomgyu was already drained dry of tears. He remembers being curled up into himself with the thick duvet over his head, trying to shield himself from his own reality.

Beomgyu had begun to think about his future as a Misfortunate. He could always stay cooped up in his room, but then that meant he would stop going to school, and then he wouldn’t get to see Soobin, and then he’ll become lonely, and he’ll die of loneliness. Even as a ten-year-old, Beomgyu knew his logic was ridiculous. He kicked and threw the duvet off of himself and sat up, his hair had stuck up in different directions and his eyes were swollen.

His face set in determination and gave himself a mental prep talk. _Being sad forever will only make others sad forever, too,_ Beomgyu had told himself as he thought about his mother, who would worry about him non-stop and lose focus on her career. 

Beomgyu had got out of his bed, stumbled from the change in gravity, and even tripped on the duvet on the ground before he caught himself by flailing his arms around like a flightless bird. Once he made it over to the other side of his room, he grabbed the edges of the full length mirror and furrowed his eyebrows as he stuck his nose against the glass, his canary irises sparkling in the mid afternoon sunlight. 

“Yellow’s kind of my color though?” Beomgyu mumbled to himself and pulled his face away from the mirror to admire himself. He slapped both hands on his face to not distract himself any further.

Beomgyu had once again set his face into one of seriousness. He took a deep breath and knocked at his skull, “Confidence.”

He remembers the stares he would get at school and even from strangers waiting at the bus stop—full of either pity, wariness, or annoyance. Because as much of an inconvenience as it was for Misfortunates day by day, it was an even bigger one for others who surrounded them. As much as younger Beomgyu would tell himself to be confident, his growing feeling of anxiousness for making the wrong move was insatiable. His first few months after being presented as a Misfortunate was full of darting eyes, fiddling fingers, and alertness that left him feeling drained halfway through the day. However, he had grown a very weak instinct whenever something was bound to come barreling his way—and weak it was because he would always expect it right when it quite literally hits him.

Beomgyu’s phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling him out of his memories. _Soobin, that nerd._

“Mm?” He grunts into the phone and receives a huff of disbelief.

“I thought you’d be more eager to hear my voice considering you wanted to meet up _three_ hours earlier than we planned,” Soobin responds, rustling noises filled the static background, which means he had probably just got done with class and immediately called Beomgyu. 

“You know me. Always an early bird,” Beomgyu says loftily as he checks out his neatly filed fingernails.

Soobin lets out an obnoxious laugh at that, “You’re the absolute opposite of that, you fucker!”

“Yeah, yeah. Tomato tomato, why did you suddenly invite me to hangout, by the way? You missed me, didn’t you?” 

The other lets out yet another noise mixed with disbelief and amusement, “If I said yes, would you finally stop acting like such an annoying prick?” 

“Not at all,” Beomgyu teasingly says in that debatably cute way that always pisses Soobin off even more.

They ended up meeting at a newly established dog cafe just down the street from the twenty-four hour convenience store Beomgyu frequently works at. Frankly, Beomgyu had been slightly nervous about going to a dog café of all places, though he loved the fluffy and energetic creatures to the point his heart aches. The café was swarming with all kinds of breeds, mostly smaller dogs, but the larger, more jumpy friends had taken a liking towards the yellow-eyed boy.

Beomgyu recalls reading an article somewhere, how dogs can only see two colors: blue and yellow. He lets out a shaky sigh, slowly blinking his eyes open to see around ten puppies and dogs, from Shih Tzu's to Greyhounds, seated in front of him with their mouths open—tongues and all—and their eyes following his flickering ones. 

Soobin coos at their little audience, “It was a good idea to bring you ‘cus now I have all these cuties to myself.” The college student giggles as he pets each puppy and dog one by one, all with sweet praises from his pouting lips and loving head pats.

Beomgyu tentatively reaches out a hand to pat the head of a slobbering English Bulldog, “I feel like they’re gonna pounce at me any second now.” He says quietly through his tense jaw, without looking away from the sluggish blinking of the Bulldog.

“You’ll be fine. I’m your lucky charm, so it cancels out. Right?” Soobin says as he coddles a cuddly Golden Retriever puppy in his arms.

Beomgyu blows his thick bangs out of his eyes before mumbling, “I highly doubt that’s how things work.”

Soobin has green eyes, a pair that suited him annoyingly well. Although those who possess green eyes are called Clovers, Beomgyu would compare Soobin’s particular pair to those of lily pads that took up an entire pond near Beomgyu’s old house in Daegu or to the green leaves in the stage right before they became considered autumn leaves. 

The blue haired boy had enough of a similar personality to Beomgyu for them to be lifelong best friends, but their fate could not be more different from each other. While Beomgyu was ridden with unluckiness, Soobin was blessed with effortless luck, though the other has expressed many times that it is completely subjective just how lucky he is. 

Younger Soobin had once run to Beomgyu, crying about how a stray cat had taken the impact from a speeding car at a traffic light right in front of him--a few steps further, the stray cat would’ve lived but then it would’ve been Clover’s life instead. 

And to say Beomgyu wasn’t jealous of Soobin at all would be a lie. There were many instances where he wished he was in the shoes of the elder, but moments like the stray cat in their memories made him wonder if he could ever live with the burden of being lucky enough to survive. 

Soobin finally sets down the fluffy friends on the cafe floor and turns to face Beomgyu as he takes a sip on his latte--it had whipped foam in the shape of a paw, Beomgyu notices with a small smile twitching on his lips.

“What you said earlier was kinda true. I wanted to hangout with you today ‘cus we haven’t properly hung out ever since the semester started,” Soobin starts off, his face oddly serious despite taking a sip from a mug with a winking dog’s face on it, “and I know you get lonely without your one and only bestie.”

Beomgyu gives him a look with his arms crossed, “How kind of you. I’ve been completely fine without you though?”

That was kind of a lie. Beomgyu has been bored shitless, doing nothing but waking up every day, eat, going to his rather boring shift at the mart, and sleep. There were days where he wanted to rant to Soobin over the phone, but he would be too worried to interrupt the Psychology major’s studies. 

“Doubt it,” the blue haired student says flatly, “Anything new happen lately?”

Beomgyu shook his head, taking a sip from his Puppuccino and grimacing when the overly sweet drink hit his tongue, “Other than the usual drunkards making a scene every night shift, nothing interesting, really. What about you, Mr. Second Year Psychology Major?”

Soobin rolls his eyes at the lack of creativity in the nickname before he suddenly jumps in his seat slightly, eyes going wide when he recalls, “There was a photoshoot on campus yesterday, actually.”

“So?” Beomgyu scoffs and Soobin shakes his head as he digs into his back pocket for his phone.

“They barricaded the set because of how many people were crowding around. I went over and managed to snag a picture, look.”

The elder swipes through his photo gallery, most of the pictures being exactly the same save for a few. From what Beomgyu could make out from the least blurry pictures taken from a distance, there were around three models who stuck out from the rest of the crowd due to their insanely tall stature as well as the typical school uniforms hugging their fit bodies. Out of the three models, only one of them wore semi thick frames, a glare bouncing off the lenses completely shielded the model’s face from being recognizable to Beomgyu, but the plump and oddly cute looking lips on his face made his eyes linger a bit longer than necessary. 

Beomgyu is snapped out of his daze when Soobin eagerly points to the handsome and mature looking model on the left, “It’s Kim Motherfucking Seokjin, Gyu! Do you know how crazy that is? How are you not fazed?”

The younger sits there for a few moments, listening to bits and pieces of Soobin’s speedy rambling about his role model as he mindlessly sips at his drink. 

“Come to think of it, who are the other two in the picture?” Beomgyu finally speaks up.

Soobin hums and furrows his eyebrows as he zooms in and out of the picture, “The guy on the right looks like Kim Taehyung. I can’t really tell from this dude’s big ass head in the way, actually.” Beomgyu snorts and discreetly coughs when he accidentally chokes on his drink.

The Clover squints his eyes so hard they look like they’d burst from intensity at any given moment, “Guy in the center is probably a newbie or something. I’ve never seen his face anywhere before.”

The two spent hours at the dog café, catching up on each other’s lives and laughing while poking fun at each other every chance they sought, all while they played with the excited fluffy friends. And even as much as Beomgyu teased and rambled to Soobin about his part time endeavors, he could not get those plump and oddly charming bleary lips out of his mind. Beomgyu felt weird the longer he thought about it, the hazy, indistinct voice in his head telling him how he wanted to see those lips more often. _They have a weird curve to it, like a cat’s,_ he tried convincing himself was the reason why. 

“We should do this more often,” the blue haired Clover says in between his fit of laughter at something ridiculous Beomgyu had said as they walked around the empty streets. “I kinda miss seeing your ugly face everyday.”

“Me too,” Beomgyu says a bit quietly despite the bright atmosphere just moments prior. He lets out a huff as he bundled himself closer to his loose layers. The sun had already set long ago and the lights in the empty street lit up in its absence. 

Soobin notices the other’s distant eyes, his now less saturated yellow irises staring into the horizon as if they were chasing the familiar hue of the sun, “What’s with you? You’ve had this look on your face the entire day.”

Beomgyu snaps out of his absentmindedness to give Soobin a confused gaze, “What look?”

The elder had trouble putting his thoughts into words, so he opts for vague hand gestures that flew across his face, “You know. Like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Beomgyu only frowns before his lips flicker upwards, “I was just thinking whether or not this telephone pole would fall on me because of how much it’s moving.”

Soobin blinks at him for a few seconds before shoving him towards the towering pole, “Let’s find out.” Beomgyu hadn’t expected that, so when he felt himself being shoved, a look of panic flashed across his face. Soobin laughs loudly at the other, pulling the dark haired boy into himself. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen with your lucky charm by your side, Gyu.”

“Lucky charm, my ass!” Beomgyu says loudly with an incredulous laugh, both of their voices carried blocks away and earns stares from the other few late night goers. 

The younger checks the time on his phone, _9:30pm_ , it glares at him, “I should probably get going, Soob, I’ve got a night shift to cover.”

“Mm. Work hard, Gyu. Text me when you can!” His best friend walks away, waving at him with that bunny-like grin.

“Get home safely, idiot!” That earns him a vulgar finger in return.

Once Soobin disappears past Beomgyu’s line of sight, the Misfortunate lets out a long and heavy sigh before he enters the twenty-four hour mart. The neon sign that displays _Happy Mart_ and a smiley face next to it flickered, casting a bright and colorful orange onto the dark street. 

The manager who Beomgyu couldn’t bother to remember the name of was standing behind the counter, right next to the sliding doors. He smiles, “Beomgyu! I’m so glad you could make it, I thought no one was gonna show for Heejin’s shift.”

Beomgyu gives him something short of a smile, “It’s no problem.”

“Right. Make sure to stock up on the empty shelves,” his manager says distractedly as they both change in and out of their uniforms. He turns to Beomgyu with a sheepish smile, “You might also want to clean up the bathrooms. A group of drunks came by not too long ago and trashed the place.”

The Misfortunate tightens his apron with strained force as he grits his teeth into a smile, “Leave it to me.”

“I knew I could count on you!” His manager grins widely and it took every fiber in Beomgyu’s being not to strangle the man on the spot. He hasn’t even clocked in yet, and if he were to choke his manager out of spite, he would like to have a couple minutes of work in before he got fired--at least then he would walk away with a few cents and a satisfying deed. 

“Have a good rest of the night,” Beomgyu politely says when his manager waves at him past the sliding doors. The brown haired boy watches his manager walk further away from the convenience store’s windows before he grabs his phone out of his work apron.

**_soob:_ ** _guess who’s home safe and sound :P_

Attached to the text was a picture of the blue-haired boy, his hair fanning away from his face as he lazily laid in bed and displayed an angle of his face that Beomgyu laughed loudly at before saving it to his phone.

Beomgyu holds up his phone in front of him, pursing his lips into a straight line and takes a picture with his text attached to it: _guess who hates it here and it’s only been five minutes._

Instead of waiting for Soobin to reply back, Beomgyu goes to stock the empty shelves like his manager wanted. Disappearing into the small back room, Beomgyu reappears with a couple of brown cardboard boxes stacked in his arms. He decides he’ll save cleaning the public bathroom as the last task to do before he ends his shift. His imagination was already making him sick at the thought of even opening the bathroom doors. 

As Beomgyu sorted out the bags of chips and other various snacks, he hums along to familiar songs that played on the store’s radio.

_So let's fly you to the moon_

_And see the stars from above_

Moments like these were what made his experience at work a little bit more bearable. He finishes stocking up one of the shelves near the back of the store when the bell at the sliding doors twinkled gently.

_With no rain, and no clouds_

_Only love_

“Welcome to Happy Mart. The bathrooms are under maintenance right now, sorry for the inconvenience,” Beomgyu says as if he had rehearsed this line many times before. 

There was no reply, not like Beomgyu was expecting one in the first place, but he looks past the shelf he’s behind anyways. The customer towered over the shelves, his height taller than Beomgyu’s, he wore large and clunky black leather boots that matched the tight black leather jeans that hugged every curve and line of his long legs. Beomgyu tears his eyes away from the other and flushes ashamedly at himself for noticing things in such a perverted way. 

He tries to distract himself by frantically stocking up the other shelves when the customer suddenly speaks up from across the store, “Where do you keep the shrimp crackers?”

Just when Beomgyu thought he would stop thinking about this stranger, who was unidentifiable in many ways other than his striking model-like legs, he feels his chest and the flesh on his face grow hot at the nasally, yet deep, drawling voice. _This person probably just left a party,_ Beomgyu thinks to himself when he notices a slight stumble in the customer’s steps.

His eyes focus back on the bags of chips gripped tightly in his hand, the contents inside crunching from the force, “Ah, I’m stocking them up right now, give me a moment please.”

Beomgyu’s attention was taken over by his frantic movement, the loud crunch of the chips and the bag drowned out any other sound to the point he doesn’t even realize a pair of black leather boots stopping right next to him with a loud squeak against the linoleum. 

When he does, however, his pair of nervous daffodil irises slowly travel from the tips of the customer’s leather boots, up the tightly leather-clad legs, to the shockingly wide shoulders covered by a fluffy beige jacket, past the slender and fair neck, to his pitch black styled hair. Then to hauntingly glossy plump lips, before they land onto a pair of sharp, feline-like eyes shaded by fashionably retro orange sunglasses. Beomgyu is at a loss for words as he continues to process the unbelievably _beautiful_ human standing in front of his Misfortunate eyes. 

“Here you go, uh, sir,” he manages to choke out as he hands the customer the bag of shrimp crackers. 

The striking man’s lips contort into a pout, his neatly threaded eyebrows scrunches up, “Sir? I don’t look _that_ old, do I?” He says it so cutely, his words slurring together with the alcohol in his breath and Beomgyu’s heart couldn’t help but do a few somersaults in his chest.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, “Not at all! You’re a very young and beautiful guy--wait, wait, ignore that last part.”

The guy _giggles_ , his eyes squinting with mirth, “I get that a lot.”

Beomgyu only lets out a shaky chuckle, _of course you would you’re a fucking Greek sculpture on legs. Really, really long legs--_

“Right! I can ring you up if you’re ready!” The words frantically leave his mouth, a bright pink flushes his cheeks, all the way up to the tips of his hair covered ears. 

The charming customer lets out yet another one of his adorable giggles before his cold, large and thin hands come up to cup gently around Beomgyu’s flaming bright cheeks. God, he could practically see the steam coming off of his face from the contact, “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

If it were humanly possible, Beomgyu felt his cheeks explode with heat and color and his heart beat so fast to the point he felt the tips of his fingers grow numb. He really hopes those orange tinted sunglasses are hiding his embarrassingly tomato cheeks. Beomgyu is frozen in his spot as the customer marvels at the face cradled in his dainty hands, his glossy thick lips lie agape and his shaded eyes were wide with wonder. 

“I was cold the entire way here, but wow, you’re really warm. Thank you,” the ebony haired man says with overwhelming sincerity. 

Beomgyu feels like he’s one second closer to passing out the longer the soft hands continued to cradle his face, “Y-You’re welcome.” When the handsome man doesn’t make a move to release Beomgyu’s face, the Misfortunate speaks up “Can I ring you up now?” _Please? I’m about to have a fucking heart attack,_ he continues the thought in his head urgently.

He feels cold hands quickly leaving his face and a gasp following after, “That’s right, my chips!”

As the other turns his attention back to the shelves to carefully pick out different snacks, completely unfazed unlike someone, Beomgyu basically sprints to the spot behind the counter. He falls a bit too dramatically to the floor and brings his knees up to his chest as he holds his insanely warm face in his shaking hands. His thoughts fly around a mile a minute; _who is this guy? Why is he so fucking hot? Why is someone so fucking hot calling him_ the cutest thing he’s ever laid eyes on _?_

All kinds of thoughts fly in and out of his head, but as soon as he manages to calm himself down, one more thought flies by: Beomgyu doesn’t know if he should consider this encounter as the work of his Misfortunate fate, or as his luckiest day by far. 


	2. Chapter 2

Yeonjun is fucked. 

Well, he’s fucked in ways more than one, but right now, he’s fucked because he’s struggling to step one foot out of the door. His manager was definitely going to kill him before the universe does.

He was inside of his luxurious hotel room, right at the foot of the door when sudden sharp, unbearable pain shot through every muscle and bone in his body. Yeonjun tried to swallow his grunts and yelps by gritting his teeth, but even the tension in his jaw contributed to the overwhelming wave of pain throughout his body.

“Fuck!” his voice ruptured out from the throat that felt like it was closing up. Yeonjun fell onto the floor with a loud thud the moment he felt the indescribable squeeze and pull inside of him snake up his limbs.

His phone had dropped out of his pocket and onto the marble floor behind where he was convulsing profusely. It rang loudly, the flashing picture of his manager’s contact on the screen broke his attention away from the pain momentarily.

Yeonjun grumbled, partially out of annoyance that he couldn’t even suffer alone in peace. The other half is out of panic, because his manager just had to catch him at the most unconventional time.

He crawled over to his phone, shaking fingers gripped at the shining floor. Once he managed to reach his, now cracked, phone, he swiped the screen to answer the call.

“Choi Yeonjun! Why haven’t you been picking up? Literally everyone is here except for you--”

“I know I’m late--” Yeonjun had interrupted, his voice was as shaky as his fingers, and he pulled away from the receiver to clench his mouth closed when a scream bubbled in his chest , “--just give me ten, and I’ll be there ready to go, alright?”

“You sound different, are you sick? We can cancel this shoot if you are--”

“No!” Yeonjun shouted with an ounce of his suppressed pain seeping through the speaker. Eyes blown wide, sweat trickled from his hairline and down into his lips--words along these lines were always enough to make Yeonjun forget the burden of his fate for just a little longer. “Sorry, just--just give me some time and I’ll be at the school. I promise.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and then a sigh, “Fine. Don’t be late.”

Yeonjun hangs up as soon as the words leave his manager’s mouth and chucks the device across the room where it barely lands on the edge of the hotel bed. He manages to heave himself up onto two feet, but an invisible pressure weighs itself on every inch of his body, making it an even more difficult task to move his legs. It was as though he was starring in a zombie apocalypse production, with the way his feet lifted sluggishly one in front of the other and how his back hunched with exhaustion. _Maybe that would’ve been a wiser career choice,_ he thinks briefly to himself, bitterly.

He finally makes it over to the mirror inside of his hotel room, the elegance of the artisan crafted frame strongly contrasted with Yeonjun's currently less-than-elegant appearance. His fingers gripped onto the vanity, his usual honey complexion paled several shades and made him look like the typical Hopeless _freak_ he had vowed to be so different from. Deep, almost black, navy eyes stare up at him through his damp eyelashes. A mirthless smile makes it way onto his chapped lips, and he almost has the strength to laugh at the person in front of him. His chest flares with immense frustration to the point he wanted to slam a fist onto the vanity, but he couldn’t even extinguish his simmering anger with how his arm felt like a thirty pound weight attached to his shoulder. 

The black-haired model sloppily wipes the sweat off of his face with the hotel towels before he exits the room. The physical torment he had endured was beginning to fade away, leaving Yeonjun only a migraine and stiff joints to lug around for the entirety of the day. However, he gathers everything within his thin and feeble body to walk out of his room and into his agency’s van as if he were anything but a blue-eyed Hopeless. It was something he brutally trained himself to do the moment he decided to be a figure for the public to ogle.

Yeonjun’s manager, Seokmin, gives him an odd look when he shows up with impenetrable black sunglasses despite the weather showing it was nothing but clouds and gloom all day. Yeonjun shoots one back--because how could his manager still be fazed by his questionable accessory choices despite working with him for almost a year?--but it goes unnoticed with how shaded his eyes were. 

Seokmin opens his mouth, probably to pick up where he left off nagging Yeonjun, but two Gifteds make their way towards the two, immersed in casual conversation and cackling laughter that only further add onto their unapproachable presence.

However, Yeonjun’s face is set alight with familiarity, “Jin-hyung, Tae-hyung?” 

The two men break away from their banter to turn to Yeonjun, both of their warm coffee-reminiscent eyes never ceasing in brightness as they excitedly jog over to the rookie. 

“Yeonjun! How long has it been since I’ve last seen you?” The older of the two Gifteds greets him while grabbing a hold of his slim face and squeezing it in different directions, “You’ve gotten so thin. Even if you’re a model now, you need to make sure you eat well, okay?”

Yeonjun fondly swats Seokjin’s hands away and feigns an annoyed eye roll, “As you wish, hyung.”

Meanwhile, Taehyung gives him a soft noogie, making sure not to mess up Yeonjun’s black hair too much and giving the stylists an unwanted nightmare. The three continue to chatter in the midst of the site, their casual presence and easy laughter was a sight for sore eyes. 

“Yeonjun! Time for make-up and costume!” 

The black-haired boy sighs and breaks away from the senior models with a gentle smile, “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

Kim Seokjin and Kim Taehyung. They were two of the few people Yeonjun has let into his frail heart. Even if he were to push them away, they’d surely bulldoze their way through with or without Yeonjun’s say. He met them when he had entered the cut throat modelling industry years ago, when he was discriminately rejected by every company he applied for. They didn’t want someone who had eyes other than brown. 

And frankly, Yeonjun didn’t blame them. He hated the hue of his eyes more than anyone—whether they gleamed a bright lapis or when they were a gloomy navy. So, he covers it any chance given. Covers it with everything he owns—sunglasses, glasses with thick plastic lenses, frivolous flashing heart-shaped sunglasses, name one and he has two for every occasion.

But as much as he hated his eyes, he hated how people acted towards him because of it. They underestimate him, doubt him, _coddle_ him as if he’d break under any sort of pressure. Yeonjun thinks back to the countless days he has experienced the feeling of his limbs being torn apart without them actually tearing the slightest in reality and stifles a humorless laugh. If anything, all of the torture his own body went through felt like he could be desensitized to any outside pain. 

However, Yeonjun has a goal he wants to achieve, and he’s not going to stop chasing after it until he has it within his grasp. For as long as he’s physically intact and alive, he’s going to make sure everyone remembers his face—even if it meant they will never see his eyes clearly. Very little Hopeless people are able to be as mobile as Yeonjun, so he’ll take every advantage of his privilege as he can to prove this to himself: _I am not bound to my fate._

“All done! Hurry and get dressed, everyone should be ready,” his makeup artist says with a quick pat on his arm. Yeonjun gives her a curt smile before pocketing his black sunglasses and exchanging them for some stylish thick frames that complemented the school uniform given to him. He’s kind of glad the theme for their shoot today is centered around academia. 

Yeonjun reunites with Seokjin and Taehyung once more at the actual shooting site. Today’s photoshoot took place at Yonsei University, the endless stretch of green filled the entire campus, and with the grey sky, Yeonjun felt like he had transmigrated into a fantasy novel full of wizardry. However, the feeling didn’t last for long when he realizes a crowd of students walking around campus had drifted towards the site out of curiosity. Once the students' eyes land on Seokjin and Taehyung’s recognizable faces, chaos is unleashed--people whip out their phones and start taking pictures unceasingly and Yeonjun could see a few people in the back shoving to get a closer look. Normally Yeonjun wouldn't mind crowds and the ruckus that comes with them, but days like today where he has an uninvited migraine--he feels like retreating into the nearest, darkest corner possible. 

“Please be careful! Don’t shove--and stay behind the barricades please!” Seokmin and a few other staff fervently try to handle the crowd. At some point, the behavior settles down to loud whispers and the occasional picture taken of the three. 

The pang behind his eyes and crescendoing throbbing in his temples began to make its presence known. His eyes were starting to become sensitive to the bright lights on the site and his ears picked up every voice around him. _Shit, shit, please go away,_ Yeonjun repeated the thought to himself like a mantra while rubbing his temples as much as he could without scrubbing his freshly applied makeup off. 

He feels a hand grip his shoulder, and he nearly jumps at the sudden movement. It was Seokmin, “You alright? Do you need to take a breather?”

Sometimes Yeonjun wants to curse everything in the universe for him to be stuck with such an observant and benevolent manager. Constantly worrying people was one of the many things Yeonjun hated. He sighs, “No, I’ll be alright. Maybe some water would be nice?”

The other waits a few beats, eyeing Yeonjun warily, but then gives him a small smile and nods, “I’ll go grab one for you. Take it easy okay?” Yeonjun only gives him a stiff nod to settle the other’s distress. 

Throughout the shoot, Yeonjun tries his best to mask any evidence of him having a _raging_ migraine, but judging by the disapproving looks directed towards the monitor displaying the pictures, he feels like this one is a lost cause. However, thankfully, the photographer finds multiple shots where Yeonjun doesn’t look like he’s going to completely pass out.

He’s back at the styling portables and changing back into the clothes he came wearing when Taehyung swings the door open. Yeonjun spares him a glance as he gets his things together and notices the male striking up conversation with the stylists and staff before making eye contact with Yeonjun, his eyes lighting up.

Yeonjun tries to give him the best smile he could muster as the elder swings a heavy tanned arm around his shoulders, “Man, I haven’t seen you look that awkward ever since you met Seokjin and I for the first time _years_ ago.”

The younger laughs weakly compared to Taehyung’s bellowing, rich one, “Honestly, I kind of came to the shoot today with a headache.” _Headache, my ass._ It felt like his blood cells were carrying life sized jackhammers instead of oxygen to his head.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Taehyung frowns as he gently pats Yeonjun’s slightly sweaty hair. 

Yeonjun smiles and rolls his aching eyes, “Because it’s _just_ a headache. Don’t worry, I’m gonna head straight home now that the shoot is over, hyung.”

Taehyung makes a noise and points a finger at him, his eyes as if saying ' _you better '._ Suddenly, his eyes go wide and his lips part, a look notioning that he had remembered just why he came to the styling portable in the first place. 

“There’s a cocktail party being held tomorrow, and I heard almost every high-end brand ambassador in Seoul is going to be there,” the Gifted says as he grabs a hold of both of Yeonjun’s busy hands. He had changed back into his impenetrable black shades now, and his head feels slightly better now that the glaring lights weren’t searing his retinas. 

“What I’m trying to say is: you should come with us. Sure, it’s a great opportunity and all, but it’s a _party_!” Taehyung’s gleaming deep bronze eyes couldn’t possibly shine brighter with excitement. Even his blinding grin couldn’t be dimmed by Yeonjun’s sunglasses, “And your hyungs are gonna be there--we’ll make sure the party isn’t boring for you, I promise!”

The Yeonjun now, with a killer migraine and all, really wants to say no, but that’s the Yeonjun _now_. Plus, he couldn’t find the stickler within him to turn Taehyung down, seeing how he’s so excited about Yeonjun going to this party. 

“You make it sound a lot more fun than it’s actually going to be,” Yeonjun says as he lets out a small genuine laugh, “Text me the details and I’ll be there, hyung!”

Taehyung punches his fists in the air and gives Yeonjun his tiger-like smile, making the younger let out an unforeseen giggle. 

Yeonjun finally leaves after he acknowledges everyone’s hard work that day and after he finds Seokjin to give him his goodbyes and promise for the party. Once he’s inside his company’s black van, he melts into the heated seats and closes his eyes at the pure bliss. He could almost feel his migraine physically dilute in intensity the more he leaned into the seat. Thankfully, the shoot at the university was the only thing on his schedule today, so he can bask in the comfort and warmth provided by the seat as much as he wants. 

Just as he was starting to doze off, he remembers about Taehyung’s invitation for tomorrow night and sits up in his seat, leaning forwards to catch Seokmin’s attention, “What’s on my schedule tomorrow, Seokmin?”

The other looks just as tired as Yeonjun was, his heavy lids shoot open the moment he realizes how close the model is. Ebony-blue eyes watch as Seokmin lethargically grabs his tablet out from his backpack and taps on the screen before rubbing at his eyes to read the time table.

“Let’s see--in the morning, you have a commercial shoot with Original Skin at ten, a clothing photoshoot at two--”

Yeonjun cuts him off, “Am I free around eight at night?”

Seokmin scrolls down the time table, “Mm. You are.” His manager turns to him with a quizzical look, “What’s going on at eight?”

The other sighs as he leans back into his seat, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, “Tae-hyung invited me to attend a party with him and Jin-hyung. Says it’ll be a good place for networking with well-known brands.” He purposely leaves out the actual partying part with his free-spirited hyungs. 

Seokmin makes a pleased noise while nodding his head, “Alright, then. I’ll put that on your schedule. Do I need to attend this?”

“Only if you want to, hyung.” Yeonjun cracks open an eye before leaning forward again to give his manager a pat on his shoulder with a lazy grin, “I’m sure you need a night of fine wine, or maybe even hardcore liquor, considering how much you worry about me twenty-four-seven.”

The manager stares out of the windshield in front of them with distant eyes and a dramatic sigh, “I think I’ll just take this rare opportunity to have hard liquor at home by myself.”

Yeonjun laughs lightly--maybe that was a good idea. He feels he is definitely going to make a bad impression at this cocktail party because of his desire to party rather than to network, and Seokmin would only chase him around trying to prevent him from making a fool of himself in front of important people. As much as Yeonjun wants to become a successful model that flourished all of Korea's media, he also wants to experience at least one night of unrestrained fun. Maybe a cocktail party held specifically for networking wasn't the place for that, Yeonjun began to regress.

After his driver stopped in front of the hotel Yeonjun was staying in for the past three days, he sluggishly unlocks the door to his room with a swipe of his keycard. Throwing his bag to the corner of the spacious room, Yeonjun proceeds to throw himself onto the single bed near the closed curtain windows. He’ll just have to wake up early to shower because his limbs feel like they won’t be peeled away from the comfort of the hotel bed any time soon.

It wasn’t long before he drifts asleep, and a familiar dream overtakes him, soothing the aches and pains, yet amplifying his suffering all at the same time.

It’s hazy, maybe even a bit misconstrued and contorted--Yeonjun was only a few years prior to hitting double digits, after all. His younger dream self smiles up at the bright yellow sun, it is high up in the sky and it embraces the entirety of Yeonjun’s small body with almost unbearable warmth. However, he doesn’t feel bothered by it. How long has it been since he’s felt this warm? How long since he’s felt like anything but an empty shell that would only become alive when he experiences unwarranted, unbearable, _inescapable_ pain? 

HIs older, real self lies dormant and distant from the him in his dreams. He only feels warmth and unusual happiness at simply sitting on the concrete curb right outside his house. 

It must’ve been near the end of a hot summer day, where the egg yolk-like ball in the sky poured more of its color than light. It was ingenuously beautiful. The color took over his entire world, painted the suburban houses with amber, blended with the ever vibrant foliage, kissed his tan skin to the point he felt like he was gold itself. 

  
  
  
  


Yeonjun likes to pride himself in being an exceptional model despite his few years of experience in the field. He accepted whatever modelling affair is offered to him, whether it was big or small, and he always blew people’s expectations out of the water.

The problem is, those affairs were mostly photoshoots. Photoshoots where he didn’t need to practice lines for. 

The director of the commercial Yeonjun is the face of sighs for, maybe, the fifth take they’ve done, “Could you say the lines a little more naturally? And hold the bottle up a little higher, please.”

Yeonjun clears his throat awkwardly, “Okay. Let me try again.”

After the sixth take, the production team finally seem satisfied with the film. Yeonjun immediately lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders drooping and the loose fitting sweater followed along with the movement. Only a sliver of his collarbone was exposed to the light air conditioned studio, yet he’s overcome with full-body shivers. 

Seokmin appears in front of him, distractedly tapping away on his tablet, “You did great, well you know, after the tenth take, but still.” Yeonjun snorts at that and quickly changes out of the pure white clothes he was made to wear. 

Despite his weakness in shooting commercials, Yeonjun felt a lot better than he did the day before. It’s almost eleven-thirty and he hasn’t experienced any aching joints, migraines, or even the slightest headache, for that matter. In the back of his mind, he feels perturbed by the inconsistency of the occurrence, but he’s too occupied feeling like a decent human being for once to pay much attention to it. 

The rest of his scheduled day goes by without Yeonjun even noticing because of it, too. Usually he would be itching to head straight back to his hotel room or his dark apartment to wallow in his physical misery and it caused time to achingly slow down. Today, however, he completes his entire schedule with ease and brimming excitement for his unscheduled affairs. It’s seven at night, the sun has long disappeared because of the cold winter, and Yeonjun has an hour to get ready to meet up with a certain pair of Gifteds. 

Taehyung had informed him that the party attire was semi-formal. Yeonjun buries through the multiple suitcases lying around his hotel room, silently cursing to himself for packing clothes that were either too extravagant or too comfortable to wear to a semi-formal event. Once he finds a loose, white ruffled chiffon blouse, black leather pants, and leather shoes to match, half of the hotel room is already swamped with endless articles of clothing. He glances at the time on his phone before darting to the bathroom suite.

By the time Yeonjun gets dressed, it’s already nearing seven-forty. He’d always been a stickler for being on time, even to parties. With that being said, the damp black hair sticking to Yeonjun’s head makes him groan at the thought of even trying to make it look perfect. So, he settles for blow drying and running a hand through it. Good enough.

A ping from his phone signals Yeonjun’s driver has most likely arrived and waiting. Having people wait on him was another one of Yeonjun's many dislikes, even if they happened to just arrive. Slightly scurrying to make sure he has everything he needs, Yeonjun is about to step foot out of the door when he notices the strange lightness on his face. _Glasses? Or sunglasses?_ He mutters to himself as he does a U-turn back to the pile of mess in his hotel room. 

He bounces in place as he scans the mound and his eyes land on a pair of orange retro sunglasses right at the edge of the heap. Yeonjun doesn’t bother to think twice before swiping the eye wear and settling it onto his face, sighing when he feels the familiar weight on his face. 

When he arrives at the hotel the cocktail party is taking place, Taehyung and Seokjin are standing in the lobby wearing what would be semi-formal for anyone else, but on the Gifteds, they definitely outdress the rest of the guests attending the party. Entering the hotel, the two look up from their conversation to grin excitedly at Yeonjun.

Taehyung’s grin morphs into a teasing one, “What’s with the orange sunglasses? Is it the point of today’s look?” 

If he had not rushed out of the door, he definitely would not have settled for something that strongly contrasted the rest of his outfit. Yeonjun swings the fluffy jacket he brought with him once the party’s over, over his shoulder and pushes up his retro shades with a cheeky smile, “Gotta stand out somehow.”

The other rolls his eyes at him before grabbing a hold of his cold wrist, “Come on, I spotted some drinks they’re pouring and it looks tasty. Let’s try them out!”

“Save some for me!” Seokjin calls after them as he walks the opposite way to join a group of people chattering away. 

As they entered the vast meeting hall, Yeonjun became slighly intimidated at the sight of the amount of people chattering politely to one another. They all followed the party dress code, maybe even leaning a bit more formal to impress potential scouters. Yeonjun courteously bows to whoever happens to make eye contact with him--most of them being stares at his unusual accessory choice--and makes sure to give them kind smiles, as well. Through his colored shades, he catches a glimpse of a familiar pretentious face that belongs to the photographer of a world-renowned clothing brand. He gasps, making a move to walk towards the man, but is pulled the other way by a chattering Taehyung.

"Woah, how did they manage to stack the drinks like this?" Taehyung says admirably as he scans the towering stacks of wine and champagne glasses. 

The long, white clothed table that has all sorts of finger foods and assortments of desserts perched beautifully on silver emblazoned platters. Yeonjun’s mouth waters at the sight, the photographer long forgotten, and grabs at whatever he could get his hands on, all the while looking cautiously around him to make sure no one is wondering why he is clawing at the parfaits like a thief would to jewels. 

Although his hands and mouth were full of different cakes and cheese--Yeonjun had thought it was a small block of white chocolate, with his vision being different shades of orange--Taehyung bemusingly shoves multiple flutes of what Yeonjun guesses to be some variant of champagnes and wines. 

The Gifted finally turns to Yeonjun, who gulps down his food nervously at the sight of the bright, glittering wide eyes and mischievous grin, “Bottoms up!”

Yeonjun matches his wide grin and clinks their glasses together before completely clearing all of its contents with a hiss. He hasn’t had a drink of alcohol in the longest time because, no matter how much he drank, he would always wake up the next morning with the worst hangover--even if he had only taken a single shot of soju the night before. 

However, Yeonjun has been feeling uncharacteristically comfortable in his skin the entire day and he wishes it’ll never end. But, he knows it will, so he’s going to take advantage of this rare opportunity and experience being piss drunk at least once. 

The two grab at more drinks, even as the waiters walk out with freshly poured flutes. At some point, Yeonjun tries to count just how many drinks they’ve ingested, but he is quickly swept away by Taehyung to the center of the hall. Despite the stares and strange looks he gets from the other guests, the elder proceeds to dance wildly to the music playing at a soft volume. Yeonjun can’t help but laugh, and it causes the two of them to giggle and cackle to each other as they move their limbs with stark contrast to the music. 

Somewhere through the second song, Seokjin appears next to them. Yeonjun thinks the elder is going to pull them away from the attention they’ve brought to themselves, but the Gifted only joins in their laughter with one that exceeds their volume. Soon, two dancing drunks become three. Outside their circle of odd dancing, it was an embarrassing sight for the other guests, but from within, it was hilarious for absolutely no reason. 

The rest of the night runs together for Yeonjun. He vaguely recalls nearly tipping over the chocolate fountain before he feels himself being pushed out of the meeting haul, into the hotel’s lobby, and then finally out into the cold winter night. The air outside immediately shocks Yeonjun out of his absent mindedness and he remembers giving Seokjin and Taehyung a big embrace, something he rarely did even to the two Gifteds, before he walks along the lit street lamps. Yeonjun frowns, gathering as much of his cold body in his arms before noticing the soft creamy sherpa held tight in his right hand’s grasp.

But even with the soft and snug jacket around him, he still felt every little breeze that managed to seep into the fibers of his jacket. 

Yeonjun walked the streets aimlessly, every sign and building contrasted with the glamorous hotel he had just been kicked out of. The narrow roads were worn with cracks and various sized potholes; gutters from nearby buildings leaked with rainwater filled the edges of the street. With his vision obscured by his drunken state and his orange sunglasses, he nearly twists his ankle walking through a particular pothole and it leads him to stumble forwards. He manages to catch himself before falling flat on his face, and when he looks up, the street he has accidentally ventured to is more prevalently illuminated than the neighboring dark mazes he passed through. 

The windows are bright and he looks up to find a neon sign flickering lazily. How long has he been walking? How did he end up here? Yeonjun doesn’t dwell on those thoughts for long when he suddenly realizes how thirsty and hungry he is. Walking into the store, he nearly becomes disoriented from how bright the lights are and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. The Hopeless shakes his head as if it would dispel the discomfort away. 

Sluggishly, he makes his way through the few aisles of the convenience store, “Where are the shrimp crackers,” he mumbles to himself as he scratches his head trying to decipher the different shades of orange bags. 

He hears a distant voice and it startles him slightly. What did they say? Yeonjun snakes through the aisles, following any sound that signified another person’s presence. When he halts in the middle of the aisle nearest the back of the store, he suddenly forgets the reason he came inside in the first place. A boy wearing the store’s uniform frantically shoves bags of chips into the shelves and Yeonjun could faintly see the entire aisle nearly shake from the sheer force. 

From here, Yeonjun absently admires the boy’s flitting round eyes, his eyebrows scrunching up from some sort of panic. His nose had a strong slope to it, leading Yeonjun’s eyes to the other’s lips, which were caught between his gnawing teeth. 

“Here you go, sir.” Yeonjun is stricken out of his staring.

However, he can’t even find the will within himself to give the other a piece of his mind; the employee was facing him now. Yeonjun feels words leave his own mouth, but his eyes never fall from the other’s face. He takes notice of the shorter boy’s adorably round head and the soft looking hair that gently fans over his face almost perfectly effortless. Yeonjun feels the strongest urge to embrace this _huggable_ looking person, so much he could feel his cold fingers twitch at his side. They move on their own, or maybe Yeonjun just wants to blame the flutes of champagne for his impulsivity. 

It’s warm. Warm like how he was in his fleeting dream.

 _Do I know you from somewhere?_ Yeonjun thinks to himself. “--You’re a very young and beautiful guy--”

 _Do you feel it, too? This weirdly pleasant hammering feeling in your chest?_ “I get that a lot.”

 _Who are you?_ “I can ring you up if you’re ready!”

Yeonjun feels lost inside the pair of sparkling eyes in front of him as he tries counting each individual glitter behind the long delicate lashes. _I want to see you again, at least once._ “You are the cutest thing I’ve laid eyes on.”

The warmth blooms, cupped in Yeonjun’s thin hands and inside his chest. This feeling, it’s so familiar--like the unbearable warmth from the sun in his dreams. Is Yeonjun dreaming? Had he blacked out the moment he left the hotel? Whether it was a dream or reality, Yeonjun finds himself wanting to never wake up from this moment. 

The boy says something about ringing him up again and Yeonjun feels himself speak as well before he goes to an aisle away from the walking sun himself. He looks for something, but he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. So, he stands there, right in the middle of the brightly illuminated store before he feels himself grow colder by the second and the dark night sky engulfing his entire world.

  
  
  
  


Beomgyu is pulled out of his inner turmoil when he hears a loud thud in the middle of the store. He peeks from behind the counter and spots the beautiful stranger laying still on the sticky linoleum floor. _Oh fuck._

“Of course this had to happen,” Beomgyu continuously repeats to himself under his breath as he paces around the customer’s motionless body on the floor. 

He stops pacing and decides he should probably check to see if he’s breathing. By looking at him, Beomgyu finds himself growing distracted by the gorgeous peacefulness painted across the other’s face. He has the urge to pull his hair out now. There is an unconscious man while Beomgyu is on the clock, and he could seriously get sued if he continues to do absolutely nothing but gawk.

Soobin is probably comfortably tucked away under the covers by now getting rest for his classes tomorrow morning, and Beomgyu doesn’t want to bother the other when they had just departed. Calling his manager is not an option. 112? He hesitates at the thought before quickly grabbing the man’s thin and veiny wrist, pouring every ounce of his concentration until he feels a soft and steady beating underneath his sweaty thumb. He sighs, both in relief and exhaustion. 

“M-Mister? Please wake up,” he tries and cringes at how pathetic he sounds.

When he gets no response other than the steady rise and fall from the raven-haired male, he actually grabs two fistfuls of his hair. Glancing at the time on his phone, he notices he has about four more hours until the end of his shift and feels his knees sink impossibly further into the floor.

Beomgyu makes sure he doesn’t spend too much time wallowing in his unfortunate situation because nothing is worse than collapsing on an unclean public floor. Taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply, he lifts the man up from under his armpits. Once he manages to haul the other up in his arms, the stranger’s unconscious body leans into Beomgyu’s, black hair tickles his face and he accidentally inhales an expensive, addictive aroma that strikes him to be something along the lines of sea salt and wood. Beomgyu could practically hear his last strand of sanity snap.

He finally makes it to the small and cramped break room. There isn’t much furniture inside of it other than employees’ lockers and a small table with a chair tucked under it. He maneuvers the stranger until he’s slung over his back before kicking the chair out from underneath the table and throws the man’s unconscious body into the seat in a rather ungraceful way. 

The Misfortunate leaves the break room, slamming the door closed behind him before sliding down onto the floor for the second time that night. Beomgyu makes a crying noise with his palms digging into his face; the drunken stranger’s fragrance stuck to them and he breathes in the addicting scent guiltily. 

The sound of ringing brings him back to reality, making him quickly stand up from the floor. Thank god it was just a normal-looking customer.

“Welcome!” Beomgyu says a bit too cheerfully for someone who works a night shift.

Time ticks by achingly slow because of how many times Beomgyu’s eyes flitter to the break room door, his knees and feet grow restless when he sits down, so he decides to stand for the rest of the night. It doesn't make much difference as he continues to pace around the small area behind the front counter.

At some point, he decides to distract himself from reality by scrolling through nearly every app on his phone. 

Beomgyu looks up from the video he’s watching to witness the slowly awaking sun outside the convenience store’s windows. It’s almost the end of his shift and he hasn’t heard anything from the unconscious man inside of the break room ever since he blacked out. 

He decides he should probably check up on him, and so he opens the door to the break room but almost immediately walks back out at the sight of the handsome stranger. He's in the same position Beomgyu had haphazardly left him in--neck and shoulders dropping low. Beomgyu winces at the sight and feels a wave of guilt wash over him. Gently, he places a hand behind the other’s neck before using his other hand to lift his chin upwards. The retro orange sunglasses stubbornly stick to the man’s face, so Beomgyu decides to slowly pluck them away, folding them before setting it on the table next to them. He is impossibly more beautiful without the eyewear obscuring half of his face, even with the indents that the sunglasses left on his delicate nose. 

Beomgyu looks around the office before he decides to strip himself of his apron and grabs his white jacket from the lockers. He folds the apron until it was thick enough to cushion the man’s head, and once Beomgyu settles him onto his side on the floor, he drapes the jacket over the other. Even with the heat inside the store, the man was as cold as he was when he entered. It worried Beomgyu slightly, causing him to lay the back of his hand on the pale forehead. He isn’t alarmingly warm, if anything, he's only a few degrees warmer than his freezing cold hands. Beomgyu frowns and looks at the time again before blowing warm air into his own palms and hesitatingly wraps them around the man’s tender, icy ones. 

When he feels the other stir in his sleep, he realizes the ridiculousness and absurdity of his actions. Since he had already given up his uniform as a substitute for a pillow for the stranger, it was one less action for him to do before he clocks out. Beomgyu restlessly waits until the next employee shows up to their shift and vaguely explains about the sleeping drunkard in the break room before he speed walks home.

Quickly after gathering his things, Beomgyu leaves the convenience store feeling a different kind of troubled than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter ;; i want to try updating every week but also make the chapters long and satisfying to read. it was kind of hard with this week's chapter cus i was running short on motivation, but i wrote so much near the end skldjf. now that we got beomgyu and yeonjun's perspective out of the way we can actually move on TT-TT.
> 
> please do be patient! and thank you for leaving such kind comments on the first chapter, i wasn't expecting excitement from only the first chapter so i was really glad <3!!
> 
> i would also like to shamelessly promote my [twt](https://twitter.com/huenyang_) as i was struggling to find motivation to write this chapter, i drew some [fanart](https://twitter.com/huenyang_/status/1337966737036292096?s=20) ?? of the au bc i honestly love this au so much so i couldn't help ^^;; i make sure to draw pretty often, and most of my recent works are of txt, so follow me if you want to see more!!\
> 
> edit: forgot to plug my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hueninq) !

**Author's Note:**

> here is my twt ! 
> 
> i have a pinned post talking more about the world this fic is taking place in along with character profiles, so please check it out if you're curious or would like to talk to me on there ^^!


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